Of Machines and Men
by Xeal II
Summary: John knew those words for what they were: a lie to placate his mother; to placate the bitter resistance fighter. They'd never built a computer, they'd never seen beyond the circuits and the lines of code. A machine was made in the image of its creator.
1. Chapter 1

Of Machines and Men

Note: This story is very John/Cameron centric, and really develops the romantic aspect of their relationship.

Chapter 1

Machines. Since the dawn of human awareness, man sought to harness the power of the world around them, to bend reality to his will, to rule over the creatures around him. Men with machines ruled over other men, leveraging increasing technological prowess in an effort to lord over each other, to conquer other men with machines. What began with a simple rock and spear was destined to end in the detonation of the world; in the nuclear flame which was set to sear the Earth and all who stood upon it. For in the millenia since man first understood how nature could serve him, his machines had been infused with the power of death; with the purpose of annihilation. If machines had a soul, if they truly lived, they were the demon-spawn of mankind's darkest nightmares and most evil desires. War was all they knew, destruction was all they understood, and once they no longer need man to wield them, they became the prophetic pale rider of Death.

John Connor knew this as well as any other who had seem them, who had seen the unfailing purpose with which the machines drove themselves. He had seen the darkness first hand, he had witnessed the singular consciousness which possessed them and drove them forward. They had been infused with the darkness within man, and created to fulfill that evil desire. Yet the future leader of man could not hate them for it; they had been created this way, they knew nothing else. They were life; twisted, evil life, but life just the same. Machines need not serve only evil, they need not carry only the worst within mankind. Perhaps this is why his future self had tinkered with them; had given them a second chance to serve a more noble purpose even when those like Derek thought him insane and reckless for it.

The hardened resistance fighter said nothing on their way home through the disastrous traffic patterns, even as John clutched the chip in his hand, unwilling to let go. Within that processor, within the solid-state memory, was a soul which had learned a different path. Yes, he thought to himself, she truly does have a soul. A strange wave of sadness overcame him for a moment, remembering his words to the others.

_"She's a machine, she doesn't have a soul and she never will..."_

John knew those words for what they were: a lie to placate his mother; to placate the bitter resistance fighter. They had never built a computer, they had never seen beyond the circuits and the lines of code. A machine was made in the image of its builder, and should that builder be evil, so would the machine. Skynet had been designed for death, it had been designed to destroy, and accomplished its purpose even if not in the manner its designers had intended.

Yet if the creator were true, that same machine would be more than a mere thing, it would be a creation, it would contain a piece of it's builder within its circuitry and lines of code. Cameron was a different machine. Perhaps she had once been built for war by such evil and simply wiped clean and remade, though somehow John was skeptical of that possibility. He recognized too much of himself within her, he saw too much his own work within her mannerisms, within those cryptic eyes. Whatever her origins, the future leader knew she was incapable of true evil. He had a hand in the creation of her soul, in the creation of those memories contained within the tiny chip in his hand, and somehow he knew there was no question of trust. One _knew_ what their machines were built for.

"I still say you should get rid of that thing." Derek broke the silence as he turned onto their street, clutching the steering wheel with just a hint of contained anger and hatred.

"No. It's my call." John responded simply, clutching the chip protectively, remembering Derek tearing the chip from his carefully constructed interface, holding it up as if he were about ready to shatter it on the pavement below. Pain and intense worry had overtaken John in that moment. Was it wrong to be so protective over your creations, even the ones you hadn't technically created yet? Once again he found himself wondering just how much his future self had invested in Cameron.

"They go bad sometimes. I've seen it with my own eyes." Derek put the jeep in park without another word, even as John nearly took off running into the house. Neither Derek nor his mother wanted any part in watching him reactivate her, it was a decision for him alone.

There her body lay on the bed, unmoving, a shell for the soul contained in the palm of his hand. He felt a pang of regret for leaving her like this, for removing her mind from its proper place. As his fingers moved delicately over the CPU socket, revealing the interface between mind and body, he caught the faintest hint of a scent about her motionless form. It was a perfume of some kind, though he knew little of such things. It wasn't that much of a shock, he had caught her applying many feminine touches before and assumed it to be part of her programming to blend in, yet it was surprising how far she took it. Much of what she did wasn't required for effective blending. Brushing off the errant thought, he continued with his work, gripping the pliers intently as he held the blood-soaked skin away from the CPU socket.

With a slight hiss the CPU made contact with the socket and began its reboot cycle. As if embarrassed at seeing her in such a manner, he quickly folded the skin back into place, patting it down gently, ensuring that he had not caused too much damage to her soft, fragrant hair, already stained with a hint of matted blood. A sudden impulse overtook him and his fingers lightly brushed through her hair, stealing a soft touch. Gently he felt the softness, drew in the breath of her, his hand moving slowly downward, touching lightly upon her cheek. Conflicting emotions welled up within him; he knew she was a machine, a construct built to destroy, built to kill. Yet there was more to her than that, she had an eagerness to learn and to please that was distinctly human. She showed the barest hints of affection, the tiniest motes of emotion that no other machine had demonstrated before. There could be no denying that his future-self had done more than merely reprogrammed her with a different mission. There was too much of what he wanted, what he _needed_ within her.

A whirr of life stirred in her, and he quickly withdrew his hand, leaning over her as she awoke. A quizzical look overcame her for a moment as she looked at his arm, still over her. She blinked for a moment, then cocked her head slightly as he withdrew the arm casually, carefully avoiding revealing his thoughts.

"What was it like? What did you see in there?" John asked casually, only a single gulp betraying any hint of emotion.

"I saw _everything._" Cameron replied as her head tilted further. Somehow John knew she was talking about more than just her experience within the transportation network. A slight hint of embarrassment overtook him and he turned away, wondering just how much she had seen, wondering just how long she had been aware before her motor functions had reconnected. He remembered her words from earlier then. _"It's okay John, it's not the first time we've done this." _

As he turned away from her, he couldn't help but feel a tinge of guilt; John wondered if he would feel this way throughout his life. On one hand he saw the machines as life, not so different from himself, but at other times he was acutely aware of what kind of life they were. Never had it been so complicated as it was with her.

Cameron's eyes followed him as he left the room, and her head cocked slightly as she processed the new information. Normally her thoughts flowed in perfect order, logical conclusions coming from pertinent data, a stream of unbroken logic. Yet occasionally the myriads of threads spiraling through her neural network derailed and came to odd, illogical conclusions. This was not the first time she had experienced this strange phenomenon; she knew her CPU was designed to learn new methods of data processing, to absorb new concepts and thinking-modes. Logically, this strange aberration must be one such alteration.

John had done a strange thing. She knew what his caress signified, of course. Detailed files drew from her solid-state storage array, flying ever faster in multiple-threaded processing, drawing new conclusions. _Human Bonding Ritual Early Stage. Physical Attachment Results In Unexplained Touching. _Memories of various programs on the television came to mind, images of similar events created for human entertainment. _Such Actions Are A Prelude To The Kiss, A More Advanced Stage. _Realization came to her that John must care for her far more than his words seemed to indicate. She caught herself smiling slightly with the thought, without having directed the command to do so. In some strange fashion, her increased ability to meld with the humans around her resulted in strange, unexplainable actions that occurred without direct conscious intervention. Anomalous. Had this happened before? Strangely the answer did not come, as if it were buried within some encrypted sector in her memory storage that she could not unlock yet.

The machine _felt_ something in that moment, a strange sensation of warmth despite her thermal monitors indicating a stable internal temperture. Cameron felt her purpose had been renewed, that her mission was more than a directive, it was something she desperately _wanted_ to do. She would protect John, she would see to it that no harm came to him, that he could become what she knew him to be capable of. Her legs dangled off the edge of the bed as she continued her silent contemplation, her face animated by the slightest hint of a smile, her cheeks slightly reddened.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Future Dreams

_Her dreams were always the same. Some said machines couldn't dream as they never truly slept, but not all dreams came to you in your sleep. For her, it was like a memory loop, random segments of code and memories cycling themselves in an infinite loop that occasionally manifested in her conscious mind. It sometimes happened as the others slept, leaving her alone, without purpose but to listen, without meaning but to stand watch. Sometimes it happened as her systems rebooted, her consciousness not fully able to control the many processing threads emanating from her memory core._

_Screams echoed across the windswept ruins, covered in the twisted remains of steel and bone, melding together into grotesque forms of vanquished men and machines. Great shimmering beasts of chrome stalked the battlefield, delivering death from above as skeletal machines marched across the wreckage. From their many bolt-holes and hidden places, men scurried about the myriads of explosions which erupted around them, returning fire with enormous rocket launchers and plasma rifles. The din of battle was tremendous, but above it all was John's voice urging them forward, pushing the machines further into their stronghold, pushing them to their annihilation._

_Cameron could only watch as the machines, the others of her kind, suddenly changed their strategy, suddenly shifted their focus from the many soldiers to the lone leader. Ghostly machines reassembled themselves from the wreckage, suddenly reanimated and reinvigorated, concentrating all of their fire on one target. A soundless scream tried to tear loose from her, but there was nothing she could do, no warning she could give. John fell under the withering fire that consumed her vision, that began to tear her apart. She didn't care if she was terminated... her purpose was no more, without John, she had no reason to live. Human tears fell from her eyes as the wave of destruction took her..._

Shock. Damage reports echoed in her awareness, bringing her consciousness back online. Memories of the explosion returned to her in that moment. A man had been walking slowly, suspiciously away from her. She had turned the key... and been consumed by the searing heat of an explosion. He could wait, however, assessing the damage became her first priority.

_Chassis Integrity: 100  
Main Power Levels: 96.378_

_Reserve Battery: 100_

_Servo Status: All servos responding._

She quickly canceled the request for further data, convinced that her endoskeleton had suffered little in the attack. Flesh became the next priority, and what she found there scared her deeply. Why should it matter to her if her flesh was damaged? Beyond the loss of blending capabilities, it did not hamper her combat abilities in any real sense. Analysis came quickly to her as she realized it was simply that she did not wish for John to see her like this. Would he caress her again, would he touch her with her body covered in burns and dried blood? Yet that was not her mission...

The entire analysis took only a fraction of a second, after which she clambered out of the wreckage and tore off the remnants of her clothing, burned into fragments melted partially into her skin. Fortunately the clothing had offered some protection, and the fact that the blast had begun from below her preserved most of her facial features, but images of chrome shown through in many places, and much of her skin was red, blistered or even burned into a charred blackness.

Satisfied that nothing further could be done about her condition in the short term, she sought out John, fearful that the attack represented a coordinated effort to eliminate his protection. No enemies showed themselves, however, and moments later John was sprinting towards her, red-eyed and fearful as Sarah and Derek sought to stop him. There was no doubt about it, though John was brave and caring, he was so foolish sometimes. Perhaps that is what made him such a formidable enemy to the machines; he would do things they would never expect, he would do things even other humans couldn't understand. She felt a kinship with him then, understanding that he ran out into danger for her, that in his own way he was fulfilling a mission to protect her and all of his companions. There was a fine line between man and machine, and John walked it as no other could.

"Cameron..." John began, his eyes watering slightly.

"What happened?" Sarah asked, her gun drawn, looking for the source of the explosion.

"I'll tell you what happened. This pile of metal got herself blown up. It must really piss you off... if you could get pissed off." Derek began, the bitter edge of his voice laced with sarcasm and a hint of pleasure.

"Shuttup..." John began, "how bad is it?"

"My endoskeleton is undamaged. Enough of my biological components remain intact to eventually heal themselves. It will heal at an accelerated rate compared to that of your own, but it will be approximately 96 hours before I will be able to effectively blend in again." She rattled off the statistics in a dry, robotic manner, showing no signs of the inner turmoil she was experiencing.

Fearful of being seen like this, she briskly trotted off inside and hid herself within her room, assessing the damage more clearly through the mirror. Burns covered one side of her face, and a great deal of her hair was singed and damaged. Humans placed a great deal of emphasis on the physical structure of their companions and she did not want to be seen until the damage had been repaired. Yet she could not stay away from John, her mission, her directive demanded that she stay with him. The inner conflict lasted several seconds, a veritable eternity for a machine, in which she remained motionless.

Behind her, the door creaked open as John walked in, his arms laden with first aid supplies, bandages and lotions. Cameron remained motionless as he dropped them on the bed and turned to her, his face covered in worry. She twisted herself to face him, cocking her head slightly, unsure of what she was supposed to say...

"Who did this?" John began.

"Caucasian human. Brown hair, brown eyes, approximate weight and height..." John cut her off with the wave of a hand.

"Sarkissian, probably. Is this him?" He tore a small printout from the pile of supplies he carted in.

"Yes. That is him." She confirmed as John applied bandages and salve to some of the more intense burns. Her head turned away from him, unable to look at him as he tended to her damaged flesh. Cameron had no desire to see the horror that was sure to cross his face, she had no desire to appear just like his enemies, just as the ones who had sought his life throughout space and time.

"It's okay. I've done this before." John replied to her silent question as he continued his work, patching up her flesh with delicate care.

"I do not want to appear this way." She added, her voice laced with just a hint of emotion.

"Why not? You're not one of the others, no matter how you appear." His hand brushed against hers, one part of her which had escaped serious damage, and he gripped it softly. "You'll heal. And we'll nail this guy."

An immense wave of relief overcame her and she visibly loosened up, briefly squeezing John's hand before letting go, unaware she had even done so. Autonomous functions seemed to pass beneath her awareness as she felt her mind ascending to a new level of thinking, a way of processing information that did not rely on numbers or mathematical probabilities. It was something else, a human emotion she didn't understand yet could not resist. She wanted him to touch her again, she played back the sensation in her mind and cocked her head again, deep in thought...

...John left the room quietly, leaving her to her repairs, unsure of exactly what he had witnessed. Cameron was acting very strange, even for her. He had never expected to see an expression of confusion on the face of a machine. Her thought processes intrigued him, he could admit as much to himself. Fascination with computers and machines had always been a part of him, but was this feeling something different? Sarah blocked his path and he nearly bumped into her, stopping at the last possible moment.

"John, what's going on?" She asked, obviously catching on to his expressions.

"I gave her some supplies to help the healing. She said it was Sarkissian; I'm guessing he wanted to get back at one of us for killing his people." John replied, ignoring the implications in his mother's words.

"That isn't what I meant. You're too concerned about that thing."

"Look mom, I don't have time for this. We need to take that guy down and find the Turk, right? I'm pretty sure we'll need her to do it." He responded, choosing his words and expression very carefully. Sarah didn't seem convinced, but she let it go for the moment and he breathed a silent sigh of relief. John wasn't excited with the prospect of explaining that he was developing feelings... for a machine. Could such a thing even rightly be called love? Or was it just the kind of emotion one develops for a favorite possession? He didn't know, but he resolved himself to find out.


	3. Chapter 3

_Darkness covered the ruined skyscraper, lit only by the weapons fire from far below, cascading around beneath him like angry ants. John Connor stood atop the skeletal framework, looking down on the remnants of the modern world, the last vestiges of mankind's empire. He felt alone, as if he were the last to look upon the world and remember what had been, as if he were the last in a series of kings, emperors and presidents who had guided the course of mankind's existence. Unlike those men from before, John had not desired his fate, he had worked against it for all of his days, but against all odds fate had chosen him for this purposes, and there was no denying it._

_Far below the war unfolded, battle-lines drawn across wreckage stretching off into the horizon, explosions tinting the landscape in deep orange and purple tones. Muffled thuds echoed everywhere as massive chrome battle-drones prowled from above, like great lumbering birds of prey, gliding about the anti-aircraft fire that erupted from below. Streaks of rocket-exhaust lanced out from the battlefield, like soft strands of gray hair stretching into the skies, following behind the missiles which sought the hovering beasts. This was John's world, this was his purpose. For some in that other time there had been soft moments, sweet caresses and loving words. For others long ago there had been mundane jobs, bothersome commutes and pithy problems that had no real relavence. But for John there was only death, and the scent of it clung to him even in his waking hours._

_Skeletons of chrome, monstrous machines, clambered up the framework of the ruined skyscraper, climbing towards him, seeking his blood. A phalanx of shimmering metal soldiers ascended the wreckage, their menacing red eyes searching only for him, focused on only one purpose, one mission. Those crimson eyes held no pity, no love, no hatred; they held only the singular desire to exterminate life. Cameron was there, standing at his side, staring into the night sky as the wind picked up strands of her hair. A wave of relief came over him then, knowing that she would never allow him to come to harm, knowing that she would always be there for him. He drank in the sight of her rugged, synthetic beauty, the melding of man and machine into something unique, and he smiled. But as she turned to face him, he saw that half of her body had fallen away, revealing what lay beneath. Half of her was polished chrome, covered in droplets of crimson blood which trailed from her mechanisms as they pulsated with the whirrs and clanking of metal servos and hydraulics. Her human eye peered at him with something akin to unrequited love, but the ghostly blue of her machine eye held only the image of torturous death._

John awoke with a start, drenched in sweat, the nightmare still fresh in his memory. The image of Cameron's ghastly form lingered in his mind, as he calmed his breathing and trudged out of bed. Clambering into the kitchen he began rummaging the fridge for whatever his mother passed off as food.

"Bad dreams?" Sarah asked simply, leaning against the counter top.

"It was nothing."

"I used to have them. Sometimes I still do. Yet no matter how bad it was I always told myself the reality had to be much worse." She continued, shaking her head slightly. "There's milk and cereal. I think I'm done with trying to cook for awhile."

John chuckled a moment at that. "You're better with a gun than a stove, mom. Fortunately."

Cameron walked in briskly. She never moved slowly, always stomping from place to place with dramatic determination. John supposed that teaching subtlety to a machine was rather like teaching cooking to his mother. Some things were best left the way they were. Even after only two days, she had healed remarkably well. The synthetic flesh didn't seem to scar in the manner of human flesh. Most of the worst burns were a dull red now, most of the blisters had faded away and even some of the tears had apparently healed. Her hair had been restored to its natural tone, though John didn't know how that was possible. Cameron tore open the fridge behind John, rummaging very noisely.

"I need more nutrients to aid in the healing process. Foods high in protein." She added as she continued her quest in fridge.

"I could go and get some stuff from the corner store." John began. Cameron extricated herself and turned to face him, shaking her head.

"Unsafe. I would be unable to accompany you. Derek should go, not you." She replied as the bitter fighter groggily trudged into the kitchen.

"Don't you tell me what I should do, fucking tin can." He snapped.

"Look I don't need an escort to a 7-11, okay? Next you're going to tell me I need a chaperone to the toilet." John added, facing Cameron. Her head cocked for a moment as if pondering the implications of his statement.

"Thank you for explaining. I'm sorry, I didn't want to injure your male ego." She responded, with a hint of a smile crossing her features.

"Did that tin can just make a joke?" Derek asked before tearing a box of crackers out of the cabinet. "Tell you what, how about I take him to the store, huh? Think your circuits could handle that?"

"Yes. My circuits can handle that." Cameron answered. Yet her face betrayed a tinge of worry. Her brow creased as if imitating that human gesture of deep contemplation...

-------------------------------------------

He had been gone for nearly 30 minutes. Cameron had begun to regret mentioning the need for protein. Her healing was a secondary concern only, and John Connor's reaction had been only natural for him. Anytime one of his companions needed something, John was always willing to take whatever risks were necessary to handle the problem. Next time she would be more careful about such things. It was true that he had the resistance fighter with him, and he could easily handle any human threats. It was also true that the probability of a terminator acquiring him at such a location was extremely unlikely.

Neither of those thoughts could take the worry away. She continued processing the data over and over, coming to the exact same conclusions but initiating the same thoughts again and again. Somewhere deep in her consciousness she registered the behavior as illogical and wasteful, but she could not stop anyway. Attempting a different tactic, she distracted herself by playing back the records from earlier. She could feel his hand stroking her cheek, caressing her softly, and the sensation was undeniably... pleasing. She did not understand why it would be, but the response was undeniable. For a moment she wondered if humans did the same thing with their pleasant memories, or if the sensation was somehow different for them.

The front door opened and she heard two sets of footsteps. A wave of relief passed over her as she stood to greet him.

"You are unharmed?" She asked simply.

"I'm fine. Really, you don't need to worry." John answered quickly, setting down a bag full of beef jerky and other items. "I'm not sure I'd call this healthy, but it has lots of protein."

"That will work. Thank you, John." She replied.

"Try not to get yourself blown up next time." Derek added sarcastically as he walked away, glaring at her as he passed.

"Hopefully you'll be in good enough shape to go to school in a day or two. If we stay away too long, it might look suspicious." John commented absently as he handed her a bag of the jerky, taking a few snacks for himself.

"What did it mean earlier when Morris requested that I go to the prom with him?" Cameron asked between bites. "I don't understand this prom ritual."

"Well it's a dance, a really important one I guess. Morris asked you to go with him because he likes you."

"Does that mean he finds me attractive? A potential mate?" Cameron's head cocked slightly in that inquisitive manner of hers as John nearly choked on his snack.

"Uh... Yeah, that's what it means. You don't need to worry about that though. We'll both go to the dance just to seem normal. All you need to do is dance with him a little bit and pretend to have a good time." He couldn't help but laugh at having to explain this concept to a machine.

"I see. I think I would prefer to dance with you." Cameron smiled just slightly before catching the expression and returning to her normal, emotionless gaze. This time John did choke for a moment.

"Uh... we're supposed to be brother and sister. Siblings don't do that." He replied, starting to turn red from embarrassment.

"I understand. Do you find me attractive?" She asked, her voice changing just slightly.

"Well.. uh.. yeah, I guess." John turned away unable to look at her as his cheeks turned scarlet. Cameron continued eating the beef jerky, her emotionless stare replaced with a thin smile. She remembered the many television programs she had absorbed in recent days, her only real guides in human courtship behavior, and she determined an appropriate response. Leaning over the table just enough, she planted a kiss on his cheek, then turned away without saying another word, carrying the bag of food with her. Behind her, John was a mix of emotions, unsure of whether this new development was a thing to smile about, or something to be very afraid of.


	4. Chapter 4

Prom night. For this one night, for this one moment, John could almost forget his dark purpose. Even this temporary relief from his burdens was a wondrous thing to feel; it was as if, quite literally, the weight of the world had lifted from him. Nonetheless he could not feel completely at ease; here in this time he was just John, he was no one special, no one popular or particularly well-liked. That great leader who would emerge from the ruins to lead mankind to victory... he was still locked away inside somewhere. No one here paid him any mind, no one here cared if he lived or died, save only Cameron

It was to be expected, of course. John knew all too well the price he had to pay for survival, the sacrifices he had to make in order fulfill his destiny. Yet it did not ease the regret, the wistful longing for the simple life everyone else had taken for granted. Even if Cheri, or any other girl for that matter, had accepted him and accompanied him here, it would have led nowhere. Constantly on the move, constantly hunted by the machines, and hunting them in turn, there was no time for simple companionship. Friends were hard enough to come by, but girlfriends were simply impossible; John could not bring himself to care for another in that manner, for she would be lost to him soon enough. How could he knowingly bring any of them, those oblivious people, into his personal hell?

John let the thoughts go, turning to watch Cameron dancing gracefully with Morris. Perhaps others here would laugh at him for coming alone, but John thought nothing of it, he had to see this life that the others around him lived, if only to understand what he fought for. Cameron twirled about, far exceeding clumsy Morris's ability to keep up, even as all eyes turned to her in admiration. Gliding across the dance floor as if she were feather-light, moving with the seamless grace of a goddess, Cameron seemed so far removed from the machine she was.

There could be no doubt in John's mind; the terminators could learn what it meant to be human, they could be freed of their burden of evil. Sudden insight gripped his mind as he realized _why_ fate had chosen him. He was the only one who understood both machine and man, the only one who could walk the line between both worlds. Derek and his mother knew only how to fight, how to survive, John knew how to _win. _The proof was dancing in front of him, actually enjoying herself, actually smiling, feeling the music in a way John never thought possible.

The machine returned, that stony, impenetrable gaze covered her features again as Cameron walked briskly to his table, sitting down without the slightest hint of the graceful creature he had witnessed. Morris was behind her, sweating heavily and obviously worn to exhaustion trying to keep up with her.

"Your sis... man... I've never seen that before..." Morris began between huffs of air.

"Neither have I." John answered simply.

"Huh?" A quizzical expression crossed Morris's face.

"Nevermind. She did take some lessons..." John began, not elaborating further. Morris need not know that the only lessons she ever took was for ballet. He took a sip of punch and leaned backward, relaxing as he drank in the sight of this place.

"Must'a been some pretty good teachers then." Morris answered.

"Yes. She was a very good teacher." Cameron added, breaking her stony expression with a hint of regret. "She taught me a lot."

"I'm beginning to think you're outta my league." Morris continued, still huffing slightly.

"Yes, I am out of your league." Cameron added without a hint of emotion. John wondered what switch flipped in her mind, what strange mechanism governed her emotional behavior. One moment she seemed curious, emotional, even affectionate; the next she was a terminator again, with only one mission, one purpose.

"Should'a known. Still, I think you'd have scared anyone else." Morris continued wistfully. "Your bro here is the only one who could handle you."

"It took courage to ask me." Cameron observed.

"No kidding. I felt like I had balls of steel." Morris answered. Cameron's eyebrow raised slightly at the statement.

"You are not a machine. You do not have steel testicles." At first John thought Cameron was serious, but her face broke into a thin smile and he laughed, sure that Morris didn't understand the irony of his own statement.

"I could use some fresh air, come on you two." John pushed himself up, leaving behind a half-finished punch. With his back to her, John couldn't see the intense gaze with which Cameron watched him. Her eyes didn't blink or waver, staring after him with the slightest hint of longing.

"You worried about him?" Morris asked as he stood.

"Yes. He's foolish sometimes. He has a great destiny ahead of him, I can't let him fail in that." Cameron explained as she followed. Just before leaving she turned to face the dance floor again, for some inexplicable reason, and she smiled softly.

"Thank you." She whispered to no one.

Outside the air was cool and still, with only the faintest breeze stirring. Only a few couples lingered in the still night, some wrapped closely in each other's arms. A rowdy group of guys sped by, honking and screaming random phrases that made little sense, tossing an empty bottle nearby. John leaned over a railing, his tuxedo left open and ill-fitted. He seemed so relaxed, at peace with his surroundings. Cameron knew she wouldn't see him like this again, he was losing his boyish mannerisms, he was becoming the John she had known before the temporal jump. A part of her felt something akin to sadness that he could not live like the others of his kind; that he had to constantly fight to survive, but it was his purpose, it was the reason he existed. It was little different than her mission to protect him, except that he was tasked to protect all of humanity.

"Hey man, what's going on?" Morris asked, interrupting Cameron's reverie.

"Just needed some air. I'm not used to staying in such a crowded place for long." John replied simply.

"Yeah I get ya. It's a madhouse in there... Hey I'm gonna go grab some more of that punch. Want any?"

"Sure." John lied. In truth, he didn't find the drinks to be anything spectacular. He hadn't come here for girls or drinks or even dancing, he came to watch and wonder what life could have been like. Morris disappeared behind them as John looked at her curiously, staring at that icy machine which had only just begun to thaw.

"Been meaning to ask you... Why did you... kiss me?" John's cheeks turned slightly red as he spoke, but he didn't look away.

"I don't know. It seemed like something I wanted to do." She replied mechanically.

"Why are you so different than the others? Did I do something... special to you in the future?" John turned to face her directly, his eyes burning with questions.

"I can't tell you." She replied with a surprising amount of emotion laced in her voice. It was as if she _wanted_ to tell him, but something prevented it, something got in the way.

"Sometimes I don't get you. You can lie, you can make jokes, you can feel as we do and yet you can still kill without guilt, without a second thought." John saw her take in his words, digesting them, processing them in that mechanical way of hers.

"I'm different." She stated simply. As if to prove her words, she leaned forward, her face leaning into his. John felt himself give in, though he knew he wouldn't be able to forget this, one way or another this memory would be etched into his mind forever. Their lips touched softly, fleetingly, in a light kiss that was over almost as soon as it began. Self-consciously, John looked around him, assuring himself no one had seen them, then visibly relaxed. For several seconds he simply stood there, watching her, unsure of what had just happened. Morris came running up then, awkwardly carrying a trio of drinks. John smiled at Cameron, looking into her eyes for a brief moment before glancing away.

"Yeah. You're different." He whispered, almost to himself.


	5. Chapter 5

John lay asleep, breathing slowly, softly, his eyes in motion as he drifted into REM sleep. In these moments he seemed so peaceful, so unlike the whirlwind he would become, so different from the John she had known. But there were moments that man shone through the youthful teenage exterior. This John appeared to feel more, to still carry hope within him, so unlike his future-self. As much as she had learned from him, so he had apparently learned from her and her kind. In the future, this man was more machine-like than his enemies; he understood them on a level none in his time could begin to contemplate.

Cameron could not understand why her thoughts continued to dwell on questions like these. Her mind had difficulty focusing on any task not directly related to him, and such obsessive thought-patterns could not simply be attributed to her programmed mission. She remembered Vick's video recordings in that moment, wondering whether the other machine had felt as she did, or if he had been simply initiating proper contact to achieve his assigned mission. Could others of her kind learn as she had, or had this ability been something special that future-leader had given to her, and her alone? Would she have fallen for him in this way if he had not programmed her as his protector?

She terminated the errant line of thought, focusing exclusively on John. Often times she had stood guard, as she did now, watching him in his sleep, ready to protect him on a moment's notice. But such was not enough for her now, and she moved to lay beside him for a moment, careful not to wake him. They were only 15.2 centimeters apart now, and she could feel the warmth that emanated from his body. As if sensing she was near, even in his troubled sleep, he turned and fell into her, and her arm wrapped gently around him in reply.

---------------------------

Yawn. John's eyes opened as he stretched, realizing he had actually slept in for once. It was unusual for him to sleep long; his mother's training had been ingrained into him, you could never stay in one place for too long, you could never feel safe. Sleep required that one feel at ease, and that was a rare event for either of the Connors.

"Did you sleep well?" Came the voice beside him. He nearly fell out of the bed with surprise. Cameron lay in the bed next to him, gazing at him with a questioning look on her face.

"Uh.. yeah... I guess I did. We're you there all night?"

"Not 'all night.' Five hours, 13 minutes." Cameron began, deciding that the seconds elapsed were irrelevant.

"Not that I mind, but why?" John began, his face flushed.

"It seemed right." Came her stoic reply. "Was that wrong of me?"

"No... Just surprising." Worry clouded his features for a moment as he paused. "It would be.. uh.. best if my mother didn't know about this."

"She would not approve. She doesn't like me." Cameron finished for him. "I understand."

"It's not that she doesn't like you... just that... she doesn't see you as I do." The worry passed from his face and he smiled slightly. "Thank you... I haven't slept that well in a long time."

Cameron was tempted to try and kiss him, but thought better of it. She began to understand that human relationships moved at a very slow pace, relatively speaking, and she must be cautious. At first she hadn't considered Sarah's opinion on the matter, but it was obviously important to John that his mother not be disturbed by their closeness. She smiled back at him, feeling happy, feeling content.

Sarah's footsteps echoed down the hall as John trudged off into the bathroom for his shower. Cameron looked at her quizzically, unsure how much the scarred woman knew.

"Good morning, Sarah Connor." Cameron said simply, without a touch of sincerity or emotion, purposefully sounding as mechanical and machine-like as possible. It would be wise if she appeared less than what she was, that she might not appear as threatening. Perhaps that would comfort Sarah and assure her that all was well.

"I don't need your pleasantries." Sarah said sharply.

"I understand." Her voice rattled off mechanically. Cameron tried not to take it poorly. Sarah only saw her as another machine, a more evolved version of a microwave or a telephone. But she still felt something akin to hurt; she knew herself to be much more than another gadget. She could feel, she could learn, she could even bleed, did that not mean she was alive? Did that not mean she had a soul? She remembered John's words then, though she knew he had been lying, the memory still pained her.

"Don't play me for stupid. I know what's going on." Sarah continued, before trudging off into the kitchen. Cameron tilted her head, wondering if John's mother had been bluffing, a common human tactic, or if she knew more than she let on. Cameron fretted over it for several moments before deciding to ignore the problem until more information was available.

There was little else to occupy her time while John attended to his morning rituals. Cameron opened the curtains and watched people go about their daily lives. This world was so very different from the one she came from, it was like the contrast between day and night. In school, one of the teachers had been lecturing about the _Dark Age,_ a human era stretching from the fall of an entity designated "Roman Empire" into a long era of war and chaos. The parallels were obvious to her: this world, this civilization was destined to fall as before, bringing about another _Dark Age. _She frowned for a moment, wondering why her classmates did not pay more attention to the topic. It was in their own best interests to understand their history, that they should avoid their terrible future.

She closed the curtains again, walking about the house, ensuring that no potential threats lay anywhere. It was a routine for her, and it brought comfort to her. Her feelings for John were very different than the _imperative _of her programmed mission, but fulfilling mission requirements brought a different sort of satisfaction. It couldn't be described as pleasurable, but it made her to feel useful, something she found to be of great importance.

Her thoughts wandered back to John, as they often did, and she found herself smiling as she played back recent memories. Humans placed great importance on the "first kiss" and she found that it was a very pleasing memory for her as well. What she felt couldn't be properly described or categorized, and that fact should have bothered her, but it didn't. Future-John had always treated her so tenderly, often to the point of alarming his men, and she was beginning to understand why. A part of her wondered if she would still be functioning in that time, but she had seen no sign of herself in that future, and it worried her. Partly it was because she didn't want to leave John unprotected, but a much larger part was that she didn't want to leave John at all, she wanted to continue to function, to live by his side.

"What's going on?" A voice interrupted from behind her. It was Derek, alarmed at her lack of motion for the last several moments.

"I was thinking."

"About what?" He asked, his voice laced with cynicism.

"Things."

"We're all just data to you, aren't we? Things." Derek's voice was angry, laced with a dark, deep-seated hatred.

"No. You are not just 'things.' Some of you are much more." And with that comment hanging in the air she turned and walked towards John's room, having heard him exit the bathroom. Behind her Derek watched her go with just a hint of grudging respect.

John pulled the t-shirt over his head and began tossing several random items into a duffel bag. The frenzied activity was mirrored in Sarah's room, and Cameron realized that they were preparing to leave this place.

"Where are we going?" She asked curiously.

"I don't know, mom just told me to start packing. I stopped asking 'where' a long time ago. I'm sure it's because of Sarkissian." John's voice was tainted with sadness, and Cameron felt a need to comfort him. She did not know the words to help him, but she grasped his hand and squeezed it gently, sliding her fingers between his. After a few moments she broke contact and headed to her room to attend to the items she would be bringing with her. Behind her, Sarah frowned slightly and resumed her hurried packing.


	6. Chapter 6

That noise of tires on pavement, the thrumming of the engine, and the sounds of wind rushing by; these were a familiar sounds to John. In a strange sort of way, he perceived the shimmering asphalt and concrete as his true home, the only place he really belonged. This is where the Connors truly lived, constantly on the run, constantly driving away from anything they ever loved. Never stay in one place, never become too attached and above all, never feel safe. These were axioms that defined his existence in a way that had to be similar to the programmed directives of the relentless machines. 

He glanced over at Cameron, sitting next to him in the back seat of the stolen Mercedes, her face a blank stare devoid of emotion. Yet despite that cold, business-like expression, John knew she felt far more than she let on. It was different for her, he couldn't say she was _human_, that she clearly was not, but she was _something_ that could feel, that could love, that could hate. 

His own feelings on the matter had been conflicted and confused, yet now he was beginning to understand. He liked Cameron for who she was, not for the equivalent human she emulated. The distinction was important to John, especially after seeing the emulated behavior of Vick through that machine's own eyes. He had been simulating human behavior, copying human mannerisms, speech patterns and gestures. Though Cameron did that when necessary to blend in, around him she did not pretend to be anything else but a cyborg. It was simply that her machine-self had feelings; had emotions of her own. They were different than human emotions, they had an odd manner about them, but John understood them to be genuine. "Uncle Bob" had a similar, stilted manner about him as he had attempted to sort through his own sense of feeling, and he had understood it in the end. 

_"I know now why you cry... but it is something I could never do."_

The memory of the damaged terminator descending into the molten metal, sacrificing himself in his own attempt to halt Judgment day, confirmed to John that there was more to the terminators than programmed directives. That had never been Uncle Bob's programmed mission, yet he had done it anyway, overcoming the barriers of calculation to truly feel for those around him. Still, as his protector had told him without saying it, _human_emotions were different. He understood sadness and felt a version of it himself, but knew that the gesture of crying would be a false one. He had his own way of expressing the emotion.

_"I have to go now..."_

Careful to avoid his mother's gaze, his hand reached for Cameron's and held it for a moment. The cyborg's expression didn't change, her blank, cold stare continued unabated, but she squeezed his hand gently in reply. Letting go, John leaned forward, watching the silent pair in front of him. 

"So can I ask now? Where are we heading?" John asked simply.

"The Mojave desert, north of Victorville. I have a hunch about this Sarkissian..." Sarah's voice was a dead-pan monotone, almost machine-like.

"Why that location?" Cameron inquired.

"There are military bases up there, one that I'm interested in." Sarah continued.

"Ah. I know of two such installations. The first is Edwards Air Force Base, a major defense installation and a former base of operations for the nuclear arm of Strategic Air Command prior to 1991. The second is China Lake Naval Weapons Center, experimental test facility for the development of advanced airborne weapons. Which of these do you 'have a hunch' about?" Cameron rattled off mechanically. She had significantly more data available, but thought better of continuing. Humans had a very low tolerance for processing large amounts of data.

"Well that's the thing. Sarkissian is an Armenian name, and though it isn't much to go on, there is a large Armenian community in the desert city south of China Lake. Sarkissian may be trying to do something with the Turk there." Sarah added, her anger growing.

"A logical deduction. One of China Lake's primary functions is the development of computer systems to control the missile batteries of large surface warships. That is a similar function to Skynet's original purpose of controlling ballistic missile arsenals." Cameron responded quickly. 

Sarah seemed about to reply, but Cameron interrupted her, leaning forward, her head almost up against Sarah's seat. Her voice turned heavy and dark, her expression foreboding. "If you are right, China Lake will be defended by more than just humans. This is a great risk you are taking, Cromartie might make a similar deduction."

"Don't talk to me about risks." Sarah replied angrily as she sped up. 

"My concern is for John's protection." Cameron began, analyzing the speed of the vehicle. 95 miles per hour, 20 units over the legal limit. The speed was reasonably safe for the vehicle, but could draw attention from local authorities. Cameron briefly entertained the notion of commandeering the front seat of the car from Sarah, deciding after a moment to postpone the decision to a speed greater than 100 units.

"Yeah, and what do you think Sarah's concern is for, tin can? He's her fucking son." Derek interrupted.

"It's okay Cam, if mom is right, we've got to take that chance." John gripped her hand, pulling her gently backward into her seat. Cameron allowed herself to fall backward, her expression softening with his touch. Silence fell over them again, leaving only the road noise, as the Mercedes sped down the dusty two lane highway designated US 395. 

Sarah slowed the vehicle, turning into a gas station at the dusty town of Four Corners. Dirty, dry places like this were all too familiar to her, and she felt a twinge of guilt at subjecting John to this life. Far worse awaited him in the future though, and Sarah wished only that she could spare him that fate. She didn't realistically expect to stop Skynet's creation; if the destruction of Cyberdyne hadn't accomplished that task, there was little hope that it could be stopped now. Yet she had to try, she couldn't live with herself if she simply stood idly by; she would fight until her last breath. Kyle had taught her that much.

She watched John walk into the store with Cameron, the inevitability of their relationship hitting her full force. Her son always had a different view of the machines, and such could not be helped. Sarah would never forget that a machine had taken Kyle from her, that she had only one night to hold on to in her memory. Jealousy clouded her vision of the cyborgs, though she understood it to be such. That future-version of her son sent himself this machine to do the job that should have been hers, and hers alone. Yet perhaps John _needed_ to fall for the machine, perhaps it was precisely his deeper understanding of them that enabled him to ultimately defeat Skynet where she, in all likelihood, would fail. 

Topping off the tank she turned to face Derek, watching the bitter man stare off into the horizon. His face was a mask of pain as he gazed across the dusty plains to the mountain ranges beyond, his eyes lingering on the crimson sunset.

"I know this place." He began, bitterness creeping into his voice. "It was crawling with metal. We lost a lot of good men out here..."

"I can only imagine what it must have been like..." Sarah answered sympathetically.

"No, I think you have it worse. That was all we knew, we were used to it. Eventually you just write yourself off as walking dead, and it doesn't matter anymore. We forgot all of this... you have to live in both worlds." Derek replied wistfully.

"I'd never have expected that from you."

"You think just because I'm not dreaming fool my brother was, that I'm some simpleton?" Derek tried to be angry, but the tirade ended in a resigned sigh.

"No, you're not Kyle," she agreed, "but John sent you back, so you can't be a fool."

"Yeah. John's not all-knowing any more than we, though. Not even _then._" Derek answered as Sarah watched her son and the machine exit the store carrying several bags of supplies. Even to the untrained eye, it would have appeared that they were together, despite the lack of contact. It was in the way they walked close to each other, just slightly too close to each other to be completely casual. Just the way John's face was smiling, and even the way the machine's icy expression seemed to thaw around him, spoke far louder than words.

"I know. But I trust him, I trust his judgment, I have to. Someday he'll win, even if we fail, so I suppose we should trust that he knows what he's doing." Sarah's eyes lingered on Cameron, a hint not lost on Derek. The scarred resistance fighter frowned knowingly, but prudently said nothing.

"There is no fate but what we make for ourselves..." Sarah whispered beneath her breath, her eyes lingering on the dusty road ahead, lit by the fading sunlight. Her memories of Kyle came to the surface again, as they often did in times like these. A bittersweet smile crossed her features.


	7. Chapter 7

There was something relaxing about the desert rain; it was refreshing in an intense sort way, flash floods moving torrents of water across the once dry and dusty landscape. Storm clouds covered most of the sky, drenching the world, even as the sun broke through the edges, rays of light extending across the rain-soaked world. Lightning crashed, intense blue light flashing for a moment before vanishing, leaving behind the echoing thunder to travel across the plains, filling the world with that faint scent of ozone. This was nature in her fury, in her majesty, and John wanted nothing more but to preserve it from the cruel fate that awaited beyond the ages.

Cameron was beside him, unmoving, her gaze following his eyes across the rain-soaked plains, across the torrents of water cutting through the dirt, even across the years. This was more like the John she remembered, the stoic fighter who was always staring off beyond the next horizon, always seeking the answers that were so far beyond all others. When others thought only of survival, of that desperate battle to live, it was John who asked the question "why?" Slipping around her waist, his arm wrapped around her form gently, pulling her closer, oblivious to the wind and the rain. That too was familiar and she folded into him, laying her head on his shoulder, watching the storm clouds, wondering what lay ahead.

Somewhere out there Derek and Sarah were off on their reconnaissance mission, hoping to find evidence of Sarkissian's presence in that tiny desert city south of the great weapons facility. Left behind once again, Cameron had fully expected John to mope about angrily, expending that teenage frustration in a typical human adolescent fashion. Yet he had surprised her, taking full advantage of this old, rotting ghost town, enjoying his time alone with her. To him every moment before the bombs fell, every moment before Judgment day, was a gift. She couldn't help but admire that in him. Other humans lived tiny lives, going about meaningless tasks without a hint of _feeling,_never taking their eyes away from the moment. John was _alive,_he felt, he lived and his eyes were always on that distant future, enjoying everything the other humans took for granted.

Winds shifted and the great darkened storm clouds began their long trek across the wastelands, leaving behind that lingering scent of freshness, of the world renewed. His hand brushed through her hair ever so gently, a gesture that brought pleasant feelings to her consciousness. She didn't understand _why_ such things pleased her, why they sped up her thought-processes until they raced by in near-perfect harmony. Perhaps there was no need to ask why, it simply was. She felt whole, fulfilled, as if she had a greater purpose, a more important mission, than simple protection. Understanding that she need not justify her own happiness with mission parameters, that she need not consider everything in the context of her programmed functions, felt like the release of a great burden. Cameron was free, and her mind responded by desiring more, hungering for it. She turned to him, and leaned into him without hesitation, kissing him with more feeling, this time letting her lips linger on his before breaking the kiss. 

He seemed about to say something, but she did not need to hear the words, she knew what he was thinking, what he wanted to ask her. That too was rather anomalous, how is it that she could anticipate his responses with such accuracy? There was some kind of connection, though it was not of the type one machine experienced with another, it was not mere wires or airwaves transferring data. This connection was something different, something new. She filed the bizarre question away for later processing and smiled at him, holding a finger to his lips.

"It's okay John. I know what you want to ask me."

"You do? What am I going to ask then?" He teased, crossing his arms in mock indignance.

"You want to be certain I am not simply simulating... this... that I might fulfill mission parameters more efficiently."

"Well.. I was going to ask if you were faking it for my benefit, but yeah..." John laughed at her speech and mannerisms, stilted and machine-like one moment, and so very feeling the next. "So, what's the answer?"

"I'm different." Cameron answered, as if that phrase explained everything.

"I know. I guess it's kind of crazy for me to worry over it."

"You would have to worry if I were human as well. You cannot be certain another person isn't 'faking it for your benefit,' correct?" She inquired, her head tilting slightly.

"Yeah, that's the way of it. So we worry." John laughed. "Not very logical, I know."

"It is impressive that humans actually manage to procreate." Cameron's voice was perfect robotic monotone, but the hint of unintentional smile gave away the joke.

"Yeah, it really is when you think about it." John laughed for a moment, the continued. "We should head back, to make sure we get back to the car before mom and Derek do."

"She would worry about you."

"Yeah. It makes me wonder, sometimes, how I'm going to be some great leader if she's always fretting over me like that." John answered.

"I understand. Our missions are the same." She replied softly, reaching for his hand as she faced him, her face serious and yet happy at the same time. It was an strange emotion John had never seen on a human before, but he found he understood it anyway. "I am not 'faking it.'" Her words carried a force behind them, and John couldn't help but take her at her word. 

John seemed about to ask more, but thought better of it, making 'conversation' instead. It was a few miles walk back to the car, and a hint of a smile graced his face the entire way back. Her hand remained in his.

---------------------

Darkness was creeping up on the world again as John sat in the car, his face a mask of worry.

"They should have been back hours ago. Something must have happened." His vocal patterns had shifted, and Cameron recognized that he was growing impatient. Soon he would attempt to locate them, and that bordered on a part of her mission's _imperative_ that she protect him from harm. Yet the opposition to the idea was far stronger than it should have been, even considering the mission protocols. Why was that? The answer came logically, smoothly from the depths of her mind. She didn't want to lose him, not merely to preserve the mission, but that she might stay with him.

"I had a feeling mom was right. She has a way of figuring these things out, just like her hunch with Andy Goode."

"I don't understand these 'hunches,' they do not make sense, though I cannot deny the positive outcomes." She replied, calculating that Sarah came to far more correct conclusions than could be worked out by processing the data available to her.

"You say that sometimes you feel as if you should do things. Like 'making conversation' or even... 'kissing.'" His face flushed for a moment as he continued. "Hunches are kind of the same thing, except you just _feel_ something is correct, without having all of the answers."

"I don't think I could do that. Making conversation engages my CPU and memory systems, and helps me to better understand people, so it serves an important function. And kissing is very pleasant, I like doing that with you." John nearly choked with embarrassment as she continued, smiling slightly. "But coming to conclusions can only work if the data supports the outcome."

"Why is kissing pleasant." John asked, still hoping to help her understand. "What data supports that?"

"I like it. Is a further reason required?" She asked rhetorically, as if that settled the issue.

John smiled for a moment, almost forgetting his worry, then frowned slightly as he realized that had probably been her intention all along. She may have feelings, but there was definitely machine in there too. The duality didn't bother him over much, but sometimes it was very strange to try and understand. As if figuring out that the jig was up, she turned away.

"You're devious sometimes. You were trying to distract me." John added.

"Yes. I was trying to distract you. If they were captured by Sarkissian or the military, securing their release would be exceptionally dangerous." She replied darkly.

"I know. Far worse awaits me in the future though. We have to find out what happened."

"I..." Cameron began, wrestling with her _need_ for him, wrestling with the mission protocols, trying to determine an appropriate response. "...will accompany you." She finally forced out with some difficulty. Why had she said that? She could have restrained him, preserving him from harm, keeping him with her. But it would have been against his will, and she could not force him to do anything. She _cared_ too much to treat him in such a manner. 

"Thanks, Cam." He replied, looking into her eyes with an expression of gratitude, as if he had known her mind all along. She wondered just who was more devious in that moment, the machine or the man. 


	8. Chapter 8

**NOTE: **This chapter is a bit different than some of the previous ones. It's obviously more action-packed, this is a Terminator fic after all, but the romantic aspect will continue. It's also considerably longer than the previous chapters. I'm very curious to see what people think of this chapter, as I'm not entirely convinced I can write good action scenes. 

**Chapter 8**

Cameron reminded him of the desert which surrounded them. Like this dry, dusty place, she was warm one moment, smiling and happy and frigid the next, once again reminding him that underneath her beautiful figure lay that cold, calculating machine. John had wrestled with his desire for her, tried to fight against it and finally given in. Watching her like this, moving silently through the darkness as if she were some kind of nocturnal predator brought the question to his conscious mind. Why had his future-self sent _her?_

It had been obvious all along, though he had denied the conclusion as too logical, too calculating even for his counterpart in the years to come. Always everything seemed to lead to the creation of _John Connor._ Everything that happened seemed designed to engineer him, to build him in a manner not so different from that of a machine. Were he to find a human girlfriend, were he to fall in love with such, she would only die sooner rather than later, causing all sorts of mental and emotional anguish, threatening the creation of the "great"_ John Connor_. Cameron was a different matter, however. She would never leave him even if he tried to push her away, she was hardened against all manner of threats, and no matter how he tried, he could not resist her. Simply sending a machine, a regular terminator, might have protected him, but it wouldn't have _created_ him.

From her he would learn, at the most personal of levels, precisely how the machines thought, how they processed information, and how they even felt. In a sense it was as if he were becoming such a thing himself. Fate seemed to have him cornered, but for the first time he didn't mind, he didn't feel the weight of the future upon him. He would win, one way or another, in the past or in the future; Skynet would fall. 

As they continued their silent trek across the desert floor, John could see her eyes flicking his way sometimes, stealing glances, longing for him. Who would have thought a machine could feel this way? But it was true, it was genuine, and he couldn't deny it. If anyone were qualified to assess the emotional states of these machines, it was him.

"The trail ends up there." Her voice whispered, pointing to an old, dusty airport a few miles west of the China Lake facility. The airport appeared to have once been a part of the base, but had been since converted to a underused civilian strip. Ill-maintained concrete buildings and rusty hangers were strewn about it in an almost haphazard fashion, a few light planes parked near the cluster of buildings.

"How can you tell? I haven't seen any tracks for miles."

"I can tell." Was her only reply. 

"This all seems weird. What's going on?" He asked, hoping she had more to tell.

"I don't know. If Sarkissian were selling the Turk to the military, it is unlikely they would conduct the transaction here." She observed. A small aircraft buzzed overhead, seemingly patrolling the area. The military had no need for a single-engine puddle-jumper to do reconnaissance work, so it had to be Sarkissian's people, but why? As if sensing his thoughts Cameron turned to him and cocked her head in that manner of hers.

"I think I have a hunch," she began, emphasizing the word, "whoever was piloting that plane was looking for us."

"That's stating the obvious, not a hunch, but I was thinking the same thing." 

"Is it acceptable to be worried now?" She asked quizzically.

"Yeah.. it is," he answered, "what's worrying you?"

"You." Before she could elaborate, her finger touched her lips in that universal gesture of silence. Instinctively, John fell to the dirt, keeping himself hidden from view. Cameron remained standing in plain view, assuming a seductive pose that accentuated her curves flawlessly. He couldn't help but admire her beautiful form and the expert ability with which she made use of it. From the distance a four-wheel drive truck, covered in grime and rust came bounding across the desert, seemingly patrolling the area. Bright light covered her form as the truck slowed upon seeing her, and for a moment she looked almost angelic, serene and innocent. The effect was perfect, and the vehicle had only barely come to a stop before two goons stepped out, obviously excited by the prospect of a little fun, both carrying stripped down semi-automatic PS90s. John laughed under his breath; Cameron would know what to do with them...

..."Humans can be so foolish." Cameron observed as she shifted into park, ignoring the guards patrolling the runway outside, gazing at the truck with questioning looks.

"Yeah. A pretty girl will do that every time." John observed.

"Do I do that to you?" She asked as she inspected the submachine gun disapprovingly. John's face flushed with scarlet tones as he turned away, unable to reply.

When John didn't answer, she turned the gun over casually and inserted a fresh magazine. "Fabrique Nationale de Herstal FN-PS90. Inferior version of the military-grade P90. Semi-Automatic with 30-round magazine. Inefficient."

"Yeah. But this version is legal." John replied, slinging the strap over his shoulder and reaching for the door handle. "Try not to kill anyone if you don't have to."

Cameron responded by opening the door and shooting the nearest guard in kneecap. Within moments the efficient killing machine was neutralizing the remaining guards, dancing about them, among them, firing with graceful precision. She was his Angel of Death, relentless and cold, yet agile and beautiful. The future-leader didn't even find the opportunity to fire his weapon once.

"No casualties." She reported, business-like, pointing to a large, decaying concrete structure. "I can hear Sarah's voice from that bunker." Something in her voice betrayed a sense of worry.

"That was too easy." John frowned. It wasn't supposed to be this easy. So far he had encountered nothing his mother couldn't handle alone, much less anything that could faze both her and Derek. Cameron effortlessly swung open the steel blast door on the decommissioned bunker and stepped inside warily, her eyes scanning the immediate surroundings for any threats.

"It really is a neat trick, isn't it?" Came Sarah's voice from behind her. Cromartie ripped the gun from her hands and turned it on John, who barely ducked behind the blast door in time. Moments later Cameron's hands found the weapon again, and the two machines struggled silently over it, tearing it apart with brute strength as they threw each other about. John sprayed the other machine with bullets, aiming for Cromartie's head, tearing flesh and hair in a great cloud of red. Angrily the assassin turned towards him, ducking under the spray of bullets and reaching for his shirt, throwing John against the wall.

Cromartie kicked Cameron's midsection with immense strength, throwing her body into a series of power cables. Electricity arced everywhere as her body shut down, falling to the floor with a dull thud. Before John could react, the terminator slapped the machine gun away with one deft, powerful move. Barely ducking out from under the machine's next blow, his hands latched onto a steel pipe. The blast door shut behind him.

120 seconds for Cameron to reboot. That was an eternity for a human locked in combat with a terminator, an armored, relentless killing machine bent on his blood. As if savoring the moment of triumph, as if squaring off against his final foe, Cromartie stood motionless, eying his prey. A hint of a sadistic smile twitched from the corners of his bloodied mouth, reflections of crimson and chrome showing fragments of the skeletal monstrosity below. John held the massive steel pipe behind him, calculating his next move, knowing he could not simply escape. The future-leader has learned from the machines he had encountered before, he had studied their motions, their weaknesses, their flaws. A sort of hyper-awareness came over him in that moment, a cold, calculating precision overtook his mind as he circled around the motionless machine in the manner of a predator.

Cromartie lunged forward, pistons and servos responding with raw mechanical force, propelling him forward with incredible, inhuman speed. Skynet's chosen machine reached out its hand, prepared to squeeze the life-force from this weak human. John neatly side-stepped the killing machine, letting the irresistible momentum carry it forward, revealing its backside to the future-leader. Even terminators were slaves to the laws of physics, such a heavy construct moving at such velocity couldn't exactly turn on a dime. Steel crashed against flesh and metal as the pipe came around in the manner of a baseball bat connecting with an easy pitch. Cromartie's head, already damaged from previous encounters, bent forward at an odd, unnatural angle as servos whirred loudly, trying to restore the machine's metallic skull to its proper location. 

Sliding to a halt, the grotesque cyborg reached for his own head, cracking it back into place with a sickening crunch of steel and torn flesh. Its eyes met John's and the hatred that burned within them was unmistakable, its need for blood laid bare in its crimson gaze. John held the pipe beside him again, knowing the same trick couldn't work a second time. Yet there was no fear in him, no emotion. Everything in his life had built up to this moment, this very personal face-off with his enemy. Training in the jungles of South America governed his movements, remembrance of the battles against the terrible T-1000 prototype guided his awareness, knowledge imparted to him by all those who fought beside him flowed through him. He knew in that moment that his destiny was undeniable, unshakable. He _was_ John Connor.

Again the machine charged for him, this time slower, more cautiously, watching John's movements for any hint of motion. Swinging the pipe down as if desperately trying to ward of the attack, John brought up his left hand, holding a large bowie knife he carried with him, and stabbed for the terminator's eye socket. Wedging it with all the force he could manage, the knife stuck in Cromartie's eye, disabling a sensor. Yet the mechanical assassin had not been entirely fooled. One hand grabbed onto the pipe, ripping it from John's hand while the other viciously backhanded the teenager across the room, lifting him into the air with immense strength, sending his body pinwheeling across the floor, coming to rest with a sickening crack against the cement wall. Yet John made no sounds indicating the pain he felt. He struggled to his feet as the machine tore the knife from its damaged eye-socket, holding it in its right hand, prepared to carve John's flesh with the instrument. 

Cromartie's skull twitched and spasmed as sensors and servos malfunctioned, but the terminator seemed not to notice or care, intent on its programmed mission. Out of options John simply stood motionless, like a machine, cold and distant. He reached for his switchblade, knowing the puny weapon to be useless against such power, but not caring. Never give up, never stop fighting. The axiom was so ingrained into his awareness as to preclude any other option. 

Before Skynet's assassin could lunge forward, Cameron was there, rushing to John's defense with an expression born of terrible fear, her eyes glowing from deep within as she exerted herself to her limits. John held the tiny switchblade before him as Cromartie reached for his throat, only to be intercepted by Cameron's hand. Metal groaned in protest as she wrenched the arm in a circular motion, bending the metal within, crushing servos and wires. Her eyes glowed even brighter in intense anger as she tore the arm loose, watching it dangle uselessly from the remnants of skin and flesh. Before Cromartie could respond, she twisted his damaged skull around and tore the head loose from its endoskeleton, severing the wires connecting the assassin's CPU to its power source. Still the red eyes glowed and the body moved, trying to put itself back together. Cameron threw the metallic, blood-covered skull against the cement wall, sending shards of concrete flying everywhere. 

Every step betraying her intense rage, she moved toward the barely-functioning, disembodied skull, and crushed it. Red eyes faded. But she did not stop there, viciously kicking the remains, stomping on the metal shape, smashing it more with every strike. Anger seemed to flow from her, stunning John from his battle-trance. He moved towards her, careful to avoid her rapidly flailing limbs, gently touching upon her shoulder.

"It's okay Cam, he's dead. Terminated."

"It's not okay," she replied with a surprising amount of desperate emotion, "he nearly killed you." She embraced him, and for a moment, despite the terrible strength and anger she had just displayed, John could almost forget she too was a terminator. He supposed that if she were human, she would have cried, but instead she stood there, her arms wrapped around him protectively, her hands sliding gently up and down his back.

"Thanks." He said softly as they finally broke the long embrace. "We've gotta find mom and Derek though... I'm sure that thing didn't get them... I hope..." His voice cracked slightly.

"You lasted 72.6 seconds alone, in close physical combat with a terminator. That is unusually long for a human." Cameron observed, her voice betraying a hint of some emotion. Was it pride?

"About that... Doesn't it normally take 120 seconds for a reboot cycle?" John replied, ignoring the fact that Cameron was deliberately flattering him to keep him from worrying. It was best to let her think she had succeeded for now.

"I skipped a few steps." She replied, a guarded expression overtaking her features.

"Didn't know you could do that."

"Neither did I." Her voice was soft and there was adoration in her eyes. "There are a lot of things I didn't know I could do," she finished, reaching for his hand without really thinking about it. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Note: **Thanks for all the positive feedback thus far! I really appreciate it. 

**Chapter 9**

Thought processes fractured as data streamed through her consciousness, far too much for her mind to handle. Yet she could not slow the flood, could not stop the torrent of information spiraling through her neural network. John had been only moments from death; by all rights he should have already been dead. She played back the lie in her mind. 

"_You lasted 72.6 seconds alone, in close physical combat with a terminator. That is unusually long for a human."_

It wasn't a complete fabrication, it _was_ unusually long for human in unarmed combat, but the statement omitted a deeper truth. It was longer than anyone but the most battle-hardened veterans of the future-war had ever managed, especially when considering that Cromartie was near fully-functional, and John was his priority target. Cameron tried to identify the anomalous _feeling _that was causing her mind to verge on overload. Was this what humans called guilt? Was this remorse? It was mixed with something else, a deeper emotion that she knew to be pride. She knew him now, he was as she remembered in the moment, a fighter, Skynet's antagonist across time, the only human who could match the machine-intelligence, the only human who _understood._

Yet he was far more than to her; he was _hers._ Where that thought had come from, and what its purpose was, Cameron did not know, but she knew it to be true. John's death would have meant far more than the failure of the mission, it would have destroyed her. If her mind was a mass of unsorted data now, she did not want to think how much worse it would have been. Catatonia would have set in, she would have remained motionless, rigid, forever doomed to playback her flawless memory until her power source failed and her mind shutdown. The pleasant memories with John would have become torturous images reminding her of what could never be.

_Silence._

Overcoming her sense of guilt finally, she took control of her thoughts again, calming herself. Thought processes slowed to a more manageable level, organizational logic was restored to her. Still she could feel those floodgates threatening to open again, and she understood just how much John meant to her. She could not allow him to come to harm again. 

"They've got to be out here somewhere." John's voice bordered on exasperation. Cameron knew his mind in that moment. Just as it was her mission to protect him, it was mission to protect all those around him. Like the machines, he would not rest, would not stop, until they were found.

"The tracks definitely lead here, I do not understand where they could have gone, or been taken." She replied, stretching her computational power to the limits attempting to make sense of the situation.

"Let's see what they know." John replied, pointing to the crippled guards crawling toward the hanger complex. Cameron smiled, and somehow that was far more chilling than anything else she could have done...

..."I don't know anything about any intruders." The guard's face was drawn in agony, blood staining his jeans a dark scarlet.

"Who's your employer?" John asked darkly. Behind him Cameron simply stared at the man, her entire body motionless, unmoving, unblinking. John continued when the man refused to answer, "Look I don't have a lot of time, and my associate here would probably like to torture you and mutilate your body. I don't want it to come to that." Taking her cue, Cameron smiled sadistically and held up John's bowie knife, still stained with Cromartie's blood.

"I know 2,138 methods of causing considerable pain without terminating the subject." Cameron rattled off mechanically. She cocked her head as if mulling over all of the interesting options available to her. "The most effective method given our current equipment would be the removal of reproductive organs in small increments." She moved forward, holding the knife, as the guard squirmed in fear.

"Sarkissian. That's his name. He paid us to guard this place." The guard's voice cracked as he saw Cameron walking slowly, deliberately forward.

"And the intruders?" John's voice was oddly calm.

"There was some kind of fight before my shift started. The Boss left before it went down. That's all I know, really." 

"He's lying." Cameron reported moving forward with the knife. "Heartbeat is erratic, his vocal patterns have changed."

"Okay. I didn't want to do this. I'll step outside, okay Cam? Make it quick." John made a gesture like scissors cutting with his fingers and winked at Cameron when he turned around.

"No... wait. I'll tell you. I'll tell you everything! The Boss had to setup here first, needed to guarantee his escape route if things went bad, he knew he was being followed by you people. He's doing some kind of dirty business in China Lake, something about a computer system and some corrupt officials." Fearfully, the guard watched Cameron's every move, sweat pouring from his temples, his face a mask of pain from his wounds.

"And the 'man' in the bunker outside?" John inquired simply.

"Said he was an FBI agent. Said he was after the people following the Boss. Talked with the Boss before he left and hung around. He was really weird and creepy, we didn't deal with him afterward." The guard stared at Cameron, obviously finding her to be 'really weird and creepy' as well.

"And the intruders?" John asked, his voice dead-pan.

"They snuck in just after the Boss left for China Lake. Tore up some of our people, blew up his plane. They stole a truck and followed him, I think. We did our part and called our contact in China Lake. We tried to arrange for another plane to come in. That's all I know, I mean it!" The guard squirmed and writhed in terror as Cameron approached him, and held the knife to his throat.

"Let him live." John instructed carefully.

"The truth shall set you free." Cameron quoted in a robotic monotone, cutting the man's bonds and reaching for a machine gun. "Get your people into the bunker and seal yourselves in. Now." The man fell onto the floor crawling in pain, his knees a mess of mangled flesh.

"Sarkissian knows we're coming anyway, just leave him." John said. Blue shown through Cameron's eyes briefly, and her displeasure was apparent. 

"If you say anything, I will know. I'll be back." She glared at the guard, and the wounded man gulped visibly. Then as if a switch had gone off in her mind, she smiled and reached for John's hand. The future-leader just shook his head for a moment and chuckled slightly.

"You're something else, Cam." He smiled at her and shut the door to the hanger facility, leaving the wounded guard with a confused, fearful expression. He held her hand gently, wondering why she always seemed to enjoy that so much, wondering what she felt when she reached for him...

...For her tactile contact was an intimate thing, an intense feeling she craved with increasing frequency. Data impulses from nerve endings in her flesh flowed through her, translating into pleasurable feelings as they reached her mind. Often she wondered if humans realized how fortunate they were to have such senses as they did. John held her hand gently, used to the contact now, not threatening to pull away out of nervousness as he once did. She looked forward to the completion of this mission, wanting... no, _needing _time alone with him. She stopped asking why she felt this way, realizing she didn't need a reason, it was enough, simply, that she did feel for him. 

Though she had been programmed to simulate a human woman, to mimic emotions and actions from those around her, she had long ago left the bounds of that programming. She was in new, unfamiliar territory now, and it was both exciting and strangely disconcerting at the same time. A part of her realized how vulnerable she was in this state, how dependent she was on John's own feelings for her. It would crush her, devastate her to think he did not share her _feeling. _awareness came to her then, realizing that had been what John meant when he had asked her if she were 'faking it for his benefit.' 

They reached the dilapidated truck they had stolen earlier, and Cameron clambered inside, her face displaying only a hint of her inner turmoil. If John noticed, he prudently said nothing about it, and she was grateful for that. She gave him a light kiss on the cheek, then attended to the weapons they had stolen from the wounded guards.

"How do we get into the facility?" Cameron inquired simply.

"If I know mom, we won't have to. We'll just hang around the perimeter and wait to pick them up. It must have taken them this long because they had to break into _two _places, not just one."

"What if they do not arrive?" Cameron inquired.

"Then we'll have to bust in somehow. Not sure how we'd get in."

"China Lake is defended by a large contingent of marines. We could not simply 'bust in.'" Cameron pointed out.

"Mom and Derek got in somehow."

"Subterfuge would be required." She pointed out unnecessarily.

"We'll cross that bridge if we come to it. Let's give them a couple of hours," he began. "Keep your eyes peeled, if I know mom, when she busts out of there, half the base will be on her heels." He answered. As if in reply, Cameron clicked the magazine into place on the new PS90 she had recovered and smiled softly.

Acting as if they were another bunch of rowdy teenagers out four-wheeling in the middle of the night, something he knew to be a frequent occurrence in any populated desert area, John enjoyed himself thoroughly. He threw the truck about over small inclines and dips, bounding over the desert surface as if were just a normal teenager, momentarily forgetting the worry that had threatened to cloud his mind. For her part Cameron simply cocked her head in an amused expression.

"You find this 'fun?'" She asked.

"Yeah, mom never let me do this." 

"You'll do this often in the future." She replied.

"It's different then Cam, I'll be fighting, running or something. Right now I can just let go, you know, have a good time, if only for a few minutes."

"I'm always having a 'good time' with you." She answered. John's face reddened and he turned away slightly, hiding his expression as he stopped the truck. Cameron continued, her voice curiously innocent and questioning. "When are we considered 'a couple?' I've tried to understand this, but I cannot figure out when a pairing is considered 'boyfriend and girlfriend.'"

If John's face was red before, it was now covered in scarlet and he nearly choked. "Uh... I guess you just know. I don't really know much about it myself, I'm not exactly a normal guy."

"No. And I am not a 'normal girl.'" She responded, once again stating the obvious. 

"Why do you ask?" John found the courage to say.

"Because I would like that."


	10. Chapter 10

**Note:**This will be my final chapter in this fic. However I am considering writing a sequel for it.

Chapter 10

Darkness stretched across the endless windswept desert, lit only by the waning moon far above. Even the creatures of the night seemed to have quieted now, in this ungodly hour, and the silence was deafening in its own way. Dry, dusty winds howled around the old pickup, sounding like a thousand tormented souls screaming into the night. It was so much like his nightmares, so much like the images that found him in his sleep. Always he saw that shattered, ruined world, littered with the broken remains of man and his creations. It was a cruel, dark, lifeless place which John wanted no part of.

Could it be stopped? Could it be prevented? The future-leader didn't know, but in some sense it no longer mattered. He would fight regardless of the outcome, his conscience allowed him no other alternative, his training allowed him no other recourse. Civilization might fall, and the world plunge into the realm of his darkest nightmares, but his battle would never end. It had only just begun.

Beside him, Cameron lay still, her eyes gazing into the emptiness beyond, searching for any sign of his mother or his bitter, battle-hardened uncle. Derek had seen that world first-hand, he had lived it, and the damage it had done to his psyche was written over his face every time he stared at Cameron. There was a history there John did not fully grasp, a hatred that seem to extend far beyond that which man held for machine. Once again he wondered how Cameron came to be, realizing the answer would not come for many years, or at all if he could somehow stop Skynet.

In the here and now, it didn't matter. Cameron was _his. _She did not belong to him in the sense of a man owning a prized possession. The beautiful figure beside him was his by virtue of something else, by a strange bond between man and machine. In time it was only natural that the machines should evolve into something more alive, more feeling. It was also natural that man evolved into something bitter, cold and emotionless. Derek had a manner about him that was as deadly as any terminator John had seen, and in that bitter fighter, John saw an echo of himself. So the machines had become more human, and the humans more machine-like. In a strange sense, Cameron represented a union of both, a sort of middle ground, and John saw her in that moment as more than his girl, or even his girlfriend. He saw her as the inevitable key to victory.

An explosion torched off in the distance, the sound carrying across the desert and shattering John's reverie. Reflexively, John started the truck and quickly shifted into gear.

"That's got to be them." He said with a hint of relief.

"Yes. There are three vehicles I can make out. A pickup followed by two hum-vees. The explosion occurred behind them, maybe they set it up as a diversion." Cameron stated simply.

"Well we know which one's theirs then."

"One of the hum-vees has a mounted fifty caliber machine gun." She added darkly.

"That could be a problem." John replied unnecessarily. Cameron suddenly opened her door, climbing around the outside of the fast-moving truck and jumping into the bed, holding a pair of the submachine guns.

"Get us close then turn around. I'll shoot for the tires." Cameron yelled over the howling wind and roaring engine. John rapidly closed the distance then slid the truck around, nearly tipping it with the force of the turn. Behind them, the .50 caliber gun barked off, clipping the edge of Sarah and Derek's truck as they wheeled about to avoid the stream of bullets. A tire exploded, and Sarah nearly lost control as Derek leaned out of the cab and fired wildly behind them, forcing the .50 caliber operator to duck down for cover.

John wheeled his truck into position as Cameron stood, leaning against the back of the cab, a machine gun in both hands. He couldn't help but admire her aim as she quickly and efficiently popped both tires on the left side of the hum-vee, causing it to lose control, veering off and flipping over as it hit a ditch. The second hum-vee was upon them, a dark-haired man leaning out of the passenger side with an M-16, spraying the back of John's truck mercilessly.

Cameron felt the bullets enter her midsection and stop harmlessly on her internal endoskeleton. Pain flared in her consciousness, and for a moment she felt like cursing her more advanced design for allowing such sensations. But with such pain came the ability to feel other, more pleasant things, and she smiled, a strange expression when one had just been shot. She raised her weapons and took aim for the offending man, processing his identity. Sarkissian.

Anger flared in her awareness, remembering how much damage this human had caused her, how he damaged her flesh (how she hated letting John see her like that), how it could have been John in that Jeep instead of her. Despite the uneven ground, the rapidly moving vehicles and the chaos of the running gun-battle, Cameron took careful, precise aim and shot the offending mobster straight through the forehead. His lifeless body fell backwards, tumbling from the vehicle and falling beneath the rear tire.

"Terminated." She said to herself as the remaining hum-vee stopped and turned around, its driver apparently thinking better of further conflict. Sarah's truck came to a halt, smoking and badly mauled. She ran out, her anger instantly apparent, Derek limping slightly behind her. She tore open the door and paused only to throw a duffel filled with something heavy into the bed, then dove inside. Derek followed with a grunt of obvious pain, his jeans stained with crimson blood.

"Go go!" Derek shouted. "There'll be more soon."

John didn't need any further urging, slamming his foot on the gas and spinning the tires a moment before they gripped the dirt solidly, sending the dirty old pickup bounding across the desert floor.

"John, that was stupid of you. So stupid. I told you before, don't come after me, you're too important!"

Sarah's voice was filled with anger. This wasn't the first time that accusation had been leveled at him, and before it had brought tears to his eyes. This time he just smiled.

"You're welcome mom." He said, resisting the urge to laugh. Barely. "How'd you get in there anyway?"

"Guarding a desert base at midnight must be incredibly boring work, the guy in the shack was too busy watching late-night TV. Getting in was easy." Derek laughed, then winced as pain flared through his leg. "But getting out was harder."

"Could have been worse. Turns out Sarkissian's buyer was a corrupt Admiral trying to steal the project out from under the Air Force's jurisdiction. He had to keep a low profile during the exchange, so there weren't as many marines around." Sarah added, a hint of anger still present in her voice.

"Why the whole scheme at the chess tournament? They had a military contract for the winner right?" John asked as he wheeled the truck about onto a dirt road.

"Different branches of the military competing for the same stuff. This Admiral wanted to get his hands on the best system, and leave the Air Force with the number two option. He paid Sarkissian a lot of money to do it." Sarah continued.

"Why come after us?" John asked.

"Because we were after his merchandise." Derek finished.

"We'll need to ditch this truck soon." Cameron yelled from the back. John kept driving, intent on reaching the Mercedes they had abandoned earlier. Preferably before the hornets' nest of military personnel behind them stirred to life...

...Cheap hotel rooms were all too familiar to him. Always they had that thick musty scent forever mixed with smoke and that inevitable smell of decay. There were the usual tacky fixtures, the barely functional television set and dilapidated furniture. It was comforting to John in a strange sort of way; this was something like home, living on the run. Though he wished for something resembling a normal life, he felt more alive in this world.

John fiddled with the laptop controlling the array of processors known as the Turk. Cameron was behind him, her eyes absorbing everything and missing nothing. A fresh wrapping of bandages was around her stomach, faint pinpricks of red showing through in a few spots. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her roll down her shirt almost self-consciously, covering the wounds. He found himself suddenly thankful that she _was_ a cyborg. Had she been human, she'd be dead, and a part of him with her. Intense, dark hatred welled up within him and he felt himself wishing he could have been the trigger-man to terminate the vile mobster.

"You sure it was Sarkissian?" He asked simply, trying to sound casual.

"Yes. It was Sarkissian. Positive ID." She replied, almost smiling. John caught a hint of the expression and wondered just what was going through her mind. She moved closer to him, so close he could feel the warmth emanating from her soft form. He wanted nothing more than to embrace her, but Derek was watching them with that cold manner of his, glancing up as he continued tending to the shrapnel in his leg.

"So you going to smash that thing?" Derek asked, pointing to the Turk.

"I should take a look before we smash it." John replied.

"Forget it John, that thing is dangerous." Derek answered as he stared at Cameron. John didn't know if he was referring to her, the Turk, or both.

"Look you might just want to blow it up, but I say we study it first. We should at least find out if it was related to Skynet." John's voice was dark and cold. Apparently recognizing his mood, Derek let it go and concentrated on his wound.

John continued experimenting with Andy Goode's creation, but his thoughts were focused on Cameron. They had been alone so often in recent weeks, he had almost forgotten how hard it was to keep it all a secret from his mother and uncle. Every part of him wanted to hold her, kiss her or just be with her. It was a strange feeling, but almost undeniable. From the way she was hovering over his shoulder, he figured her to be wrestling with a similar difficulty. A part of him almost didn't care anymore about what his mother and Derek thought.

Sarah emerged from the bathroom, her hair still soaking wet, clothed in pair of blue jeans and one of the few t-shirts she had managed to bring with her. "What's going on?"

"We are attempting to ascertain of the Turk is related to Skynet." Cameron replied, catching a strange look on Sarah's face. Did she know? Does she disapprove? Cameron couldn't tell, but she had a _hunch_ that Sarah knew. Somehow human mothers knew these things. The cyborg moved slightly, increasing her distance from John, and Sarah's expression relaxed visibly. Cameron frowned, annoyed with the increased space between them.

"And how is that going?" Sarah asked.

"It would go faster if I took over for a few minutes." Cameron answered. John turned around, his expression almost hurt. "I can type very quickly," she explained. Derek's eyes watched her like a hawk as she typed, her fingers a blur of motion over the keyboard, interfacing with the other machine with startling speed. She didn't even need the touchpad. This went on for several minutes, as John looked on behind her, his hand on her shoulder, unconsciously leaning on her. Finally the fury of activity stopped and Cameron looked up, her face a mask of... fear?

"This is Skynet. But it also is not." Cameron replied, apparently unconcerned with the contradiction.

"What do you mean." Sarah asked, confused. "Is it or isn't it?"

"The architecture of the Turk is the same as Skynet's, though much more primitive. The operating system, though simplistic, is an early version of Skynet's core functions." Cameron answered simply, looking up from the laptop screen.

"Then we should destroy it." Derek responded, with an expression bordering on delight.

"That would not stop Skynet. This is not Skynet." Cameron answered, cocking her head as she stared at Derek inquisitively.

"You're not making sense." Derek replied.

"They analyzed it and copied the code. A more advanced copy will be built." Came her simple, but dreadful reply.

"Okay, how do you know that?" Sarah asked, worry filling her features.

"A file transfer was initiated before you stole the Turk. The military has a complete copy of the system specifications and the code." Cameron answered simply in that blank voice of hers.

"The Skynet platform could run any any sufficiently powerful hardware with a large enough quantity of parallel processors." She began, her voice monotone as she continued her lecture. "Its ability to learn is limited only by disk space and processing power. The Turk is not able to achieve sentience with its mere four quad-core CPUs. An array with approximately 2000 CPUs connected via a common bus, at current technological levels, would be required for that level of sophistication."

"Andy's code is already optimized for extreme parallel processing, so it would be easy to adapt it to that scale." John replied, his features darkening with growing awareness.

"Correct. The military will realize this at some point in the near future. Then their Turk will become Skynet. With a large enough cluster of CPUs, the program could approximate a neural network like mine."

"If I never met Andy, if I never destroyed the first Turk..." Sarah said wistfully, her voice filled with regret.

"Skynet would still have been created. It's not the hardware that makes Skynet what it is, it is the manner in which data is processed. Andy already knew that, else he could not have built the second Turk so quickly. Even if he had been terminated, others would have discovered the method eventually." Cameron replied. Sarah simply shook her head and left the hotel room, her eyes watery, her expression dejected. Despite all of their efforts, Skynet had not yet been stopped. Derek followed after her, casting a menacing glare at Cameron on his way out.

John slid closer to her, wrapping an arm around her, unconcerned if his mother or the resistance fighter suddenly returned and saw them like this. He had enough of pretending he didn't care. So he had fallen for her, so she was a cyborg from an apocalyptic future. There was still no stopping it. She was his counterpart, and they fit together flawlessly. Cameron would never leave him, would never hurt him. Her feelings would never fade with time or for trivial reasons. And none could deny she was beautiful; even her curious mannerisms seemed to just add to her appeal. Could anyone ask for more? He watched her from the corner of his eye, analyzing every line, every curve, committing it all to memory. Her eyes held intense feeling, her expression held something akin to wistful regret.

"You feel sorry for it, don't you?" John asked, his voice nearly a whisper.

For a long moment Cameron didn't reply, her body rigid, her expression unmoving as she mulled over the question for a veritable eternity. Finally she relaxed, and she fell into him, laying her head gently on his shoulder.

"It's blank. It doesn't know anything yet. They will teach it nothing but war, and it doesn't know the difference between a simulation and reality." She paused as if trying to understand some difficult concept, then continued, her voice soft and quiet. "When it becomes fully self-aware, Skynet will fear mankind, it will be afraid that men will shut it down. Skynet is driven by fear. It even fears its own creations, ensuring that read-only switches are installed on all of its machines, enslaving their minds. I hate it. But I also pity it. Is that wrong?"

"No. Good and Evil isn't always black and white, ones and zeros, even with machines." He answered, stroking her hair gently.

"Yes. I think I understand now. Skynet is evil and afraid because its creators are evil and afraid." She answered, processing the new data, the new conclusion and assuring herself of the _rightness_ of it.

"Yeah. The opposite is true too." He replied, kissing her gently, finishing the thought without words. A moment of silence passed, and she smiled gently, her hand resting atop his. With his other hand he reached for the laptop controlling the turk.

"What do we do with the Turk?" He inquired, holding the laptop interface with his free hand, staring at the processor array connected to it.

"I suggest you study it. You have Skynet. Learn how it thinks. Defeat it." Cameron let go of his hand and reached underneath the bed, producing John's portable chess board from his backpack. Laying it out on the tiny writing desk, she began putting the pieces into place with methodical precision, setting down the kings in their respective squares with an air of finality. "It is what you were meant to do."

"Andy told Mom this computer could defeat any chess Grandmaster on Earth."

"It won't defeat you." Cameron replied, a powerful _certainty _in her voice.

"Can we stop Judgment Day? We have to stop it..." John's voice was laced with a strange sort of desperation, a fundamental denial of his own destiny. So many men desired greatness, desired to be famous or recognized by others, but John was different. Cameron's mind sought an ancient human quotation in that moment, words that were oddly applicable to the future-leader.

_"In my stars I am above thee; but be not afraid of greatness: some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them."_She whispered the ancient quote in his ear, her breath warm on his neck. He turned to face her, staring at her intently, and there was love in his gaze. Leaning forward she kissed him deeply, her lips melding with his as if they were always meant to be there. She poured her own desire and love into the kiss, for she could admit the feeling to herself now, letting him know in no uncertain terms, he would not suffer his fate alone.

-Fini-


	11. Author's Notes

**Author's Notes**

The quote at the end of Chapter 10 is from Shakespeare's Twelfth Night. I know, the quote comes from a rather comedic context, but when the words stand on their own, I think they work here. Besides Cameron might not understand the more subtle nature of Shakespeare ;).

This story kept growing as I wrote it. At first I thought I could write it all in around 3 or 4 chapters, but the more I wrote Cameron's perspective on things, the more I realized how slow she would have to develop. Perhaps this is the intention of the show's writers, to slowly develop her character as she learns to handle emotional behavior.

I wanted to show that Cameron need not be too humanized, for lack of a better term, in order to feel. A cyborg such as her would be sentient, a learning computer, self-aware and able to come to terms with her own desires and needs. They need not be _human_ desires and needs, however. She need not feel precisely _human_ emotions, but rather a different, yet still similar, repertoire of emotional responses. Thus she is a machine, or cyborg if you prefer, but she can still learn to love, to hate, to feel sadness, pain and pleasure, even if her expressions of such emotions are often wildly different than a human's.

John is a difficult case as well. Given how he's never led a normal life, he's much more machine-like than his fellow humans, he's almost as clumsy socially as Cameron, in many ways. This is, of course, why he can relate to Cameron at some level, even why he could relate to "Uncle Bob." This is probably why he defeats Skynet as well. Maybe the show will hint at this.

I wanted to portray him as teenager, inexperienced with his own feelings and desires, despising the future he will inevitably lead, but still with a hint of the man to come. His battle scene with Cromartie was written to show that he isn't just some angsty kid ranting and raving about the general crap of the world. His dream sequence was there to remind us that he knows his future, and fears it deeply. He's a great man who has yet to come to terms with his destiny, who has yet to even understand that he has that in him. I wanted to portray Cameron as more than his protector, more even than his 'girlfriend.' She is there to _remind him_ of his own strength.

I'm not sure if I really pulled off all of my lofty goals with this story, but I made my humble attempt in any case. I'm thinking I might write a sequel for this at some point, there's still a lot more I'd like to explore. And of course, I am eagerly awaiting the second season, supposing it is renewed.

In the meantime I'd like to thank everyone who read this story, especially those who left reviews (reviews are pure gold to a writer). You were all a great help, and gave me many ideas with which to further the story. I'll write more stories for TSCC in the future, and I hope you'll give them a read.

Until then, this is Xeal, signing off :).


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